“I found out that I was pregnant and 2 days later, I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer”

“A week before, while I was getting the biopsy, I had casually told my doctor that we weren’t actively trying for a baby at that moment. And now, here I was pregnant and facing a cancer diagnosis at the same time.”

Imagine receiving the happiest news of your life and then the worst news right after. That somewhat describes Andrea Lim’s experience. At the age of 35, Andrea was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer, a mere two days after finding out she was pregnant–after over a year of trying for a baby. Faced with the most difficult decision, Andrea had to terminate her pregnancy to focus on her breast cancer treatment.

Today, Andrea, now turning 36, is an advocate who you’ll see at breast cancer awareness events in Singapore. She emphasises how important breast cancer early detection is, and offers support to fellow patients. Andrea shares with us her story of how her fertility journey came to an end, how she’s overcoming her diagnosis, and what keeps her going.

Tell us a little about yourself.

I work in the healthcare industry, where my day-to-day job involves evaluating innovative healthcare ideas with the potential to impact and shape lives globally. I’ve always been a goal-getter, believing that our 20s and 30s are the time to push hard, laying the groundwork so that we can reap the rewards in our 40s and 50s. I’m never one to shy away from a challenge, even if it’s beyond my pay grade or working hours. Being arrowed at work? I say bring it on.

Beyond work, I have a happy-go-lucky personality and a natural joker streak. I love learning new things and throwing myself into life’s experiences. But I’m also someone who tends to overachieve. I’ve always wanted it all: a thriving career and a fulfilling personal life, stretching myself thin to excel professionally while building a warm and loving family.

Ironically, life threw me into the very world I work in. In June 2024, I found out that I was pregnant and 2 days later, I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. 2024 forced me to redefine what ‘strong’ and ‘resilient’ really mean. My journey with cancer and pregnancy has been anything but conventional, but it’s given me a new perspective on what it means to truly live.

Prior to your diagnosis, had you always wanted to be a mother?

Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Just like how I approach my career with ambition and drive, I’ve always envisioned a life where I could have both a fulfilling career and a loving family. In fact, my husband wasn’t initially keen on having kids, and I spent a year convincing him, painting a picture of what life could look like if we had a family.

To me, success isn’t just about professional achievements; it’s about having a home filled with love, laughter, and little feet running around. But my diagnosis forced me to take a step back and rethink what motherhood would look like for me.

Could you walk us through your fertility journey?

After we got married, I spent a year convincing my husband that having kids was a great idea. He wasn’t too keen on having kids at first until I started painting him a vision of what life could look like with a family. Eventually, he came around, and we started trying for a baby.

For a year, we tracked cycles, trying all the little tricks my close girlfriends swore by, and following every piece of advice that had worked for them. But despite our best efforts, nothing happened. So, we decided to get a fertility test. Thankfully, all our plumbing and mechanics were working fine, which was a huge relief. With that reassurance and with our gynae’s blessings, we went back to trying.

That same year, I was given the opportunity to pursue an MBA. Juggling a demanding job and an MBA was already going to be tough, but I took it on anyway with the mindset to quickly get over it and be done with the MBA. We continued trying for a baby in the midst of all that chaos. I even went through some pretty unorthodox methods, like alternating between yellow soy milk and black soy milk every day until ovulation. But despite all the effort, still no baby.

Eventually, my husband and I decided that I needed to hunker down and focus on completing my MBA. I was ageing, and with my work and MBA requiring frequent travel, I wasn’t sure if I could manage pregnancy symptoms on top of everything else. So, we made the call to stop trying for a while. And of course, because life loves irony, that’s exactly when we got our miracle baby. Conceived right on our third-year wedding anniversary.

What was your reaction when you found out that you were pregnant?

I didn’t believe it at first. I have a very short cycle of 25 days, like clockwork, so the thought of being pregnant did not even cross my mind. It was only when I hit day 32, which was super unusual for me, that I thought, okay, maybe I should test. Plus, I had some digital pregnancy test kits that were about to expire. Those things are ridiculously expensive, so might as well use one.

I took the test and left it on the counter while brushing my teeth. I glanced over and saw the screen flash Pregnant—but it was still flickering as if it was still loading. Thinking it was just a glitch, I walked over to my husband and said, Watch this. We should write a bad review for this test kit. The word ‘NOT’ is probably going to pop up in front of ‘Pregnant’. This thing is giving couples false hope! And right then, my husband exclaimed, it says 2-3 weeks pregnant!

We started testing with multiple pregnancy kits, one after another, and of course, they all confirmed I was pregnant. We were excited but also in total disbelief. My husband even wanted me to get a blood test just to be really sure.

And while all this was happening, the first thing I googled was “How much coffee can I still drink?” And I also started to count when I will hit my second trimester as I was due to fly for one of my MBA modules in 4 months – if I’m grounded means I would delay graduation, which is not good news for me.

What prompted you to seek medical help for your breast cancer symptoms?

This was completely separate from my pregnancy. For over six months, I had this persistent itch on my right nipple, but only when I was showering. It wasn’t painful, just annoying. I tried all sorts of lotions and even facial moisturizers, which helped a little but never fully got rid of it.

One day, the thought of a yeast infection crossed my mind, and I figured I should just get it checked for peace of mind. So, I did what most people would. I googled for a breast doctor and went to the first one that popped up. She took my concern seriously and immediately ordered a same-day urgent mammogram and ultrasound. The results were completely clear. No lumps, no abnormalities; just two perfectly dense breasts, as you’d expect for a 35-year-old. I went home relieved, armed with a tube of steroid cream and a follow-up appointment in two weeks.

But two weeks later, the itching still hadn’t improved. The doctor then suggested a biopsy, telling me there was a 50% chance it was breast cancer and a 50% chance it was just a skin issue—if it was the latter, she’d refer me to a dermatologist. Hearing 50% chance of cancer was enough for me to seek a second opinion from a breast doctor I personally knew and trusted. And the rest is history.

Read more: Guide To Getting A Mammogram In Singapore

What was going through your mind when you got your cancer diagnosis?

My doctor was really smart. The day before my appointment, her nurses called me to say that my biopsy results were back and that I should bring my husband along. That was all they said. I knew what that meant. Doctors don’t ask you to bring your spouse for good news. That evening, I sat my husband down, and we talked about it. By the time we stepped into the clinic the next day, we had already processed the possibility, which made it easier for her to focus on the real discussions—next steps, treatment options—rather than dealing with the initial emotional shock.

But the first thing that went through my mind wasn’t even about me. It was about our baby. That phone call from the nurse came just one day after we had tested positive on the pregnancy test. A week before, while I was getting the biopsy, I had casually told my doctor that we weren’t actively trying for a baby at that moment. And now, here I was pregnant and facing a cancer diagnosis at the same time.

My husband and I are both highly logical people. That night, we sat down and set our intention: the priority would be me. Save the mother first. If we can save the baby too, that’s a double win. Every decision we made from that moment on was based on that guiding principle.

Making the decision to terminate your pregnancy must’ve been incredibly difficult. Did you have any reservations, and what support did you have during this time?

I had one week of rollercoaster ride while waiting for my histology results post my first surgery. There were days when I felt determined to fight cancer with my baby in tow. And then, there were days when I was overwhelmed with thoughts about the baby and the impossible situation we were in.

I was cleared by the gynaecologist and anesthetist to proceed with surgery under general anesthesia, with no harm to the baby. We quickly proceeded with surgery to take out the cancer from the primary site as soon as possible. We had to eradicate the cancer as quickly as possible because the baby and the cancer could not coexist. Not because the cancer would spread to the baby or harm the baby directly, but because my breast cancer was 100% hormone-positive—it thrived on progesterone and estrogen. And pregnancy meant that my progesterone and estrogen levels were skyrocketing every single day. To my cancer cells, it was like throwing a massive party: “Oh yay! More hormones! Let’s rage and multiply!”

While waiting for my results (still carrying the baby), I recalled telling my parents that I hoped to be diagnosed at Stage 3. That might sound strange, but in my mind, Stage 3 meant months of chemotherapy before radiation therapy, which meant I could keep the baby (approved by a gynaecologist for the 2nd trimester onwards). I could go through chemo while pregnant, deliver the child, and then proceed with radiation. But if I were at a very early stage, I wouldn’t need chemotherapy, and the treatment plan would require immediate radiation after surgery, and this meant that the pregnancy couldn’t continue.

And then there were the darker days. There were moments when I told my husband that this baby might be silently and rapidly killing me. And for self-preservation, maybe I should quickly rid this baby first to bring down my raging hormones. The guilt of having those thoughts was immense, but I couldn’t ignore the reality of what was happening inside my body.

When the results from my first surgery came back, they were devastating. Despite my surgeon removing 5.5cm of the tumour, the margins were still not clear. This meant the tumour was even larger—something that had been completely missed by all the gold-standard diagnostic tools. At that moment, we knew what had to be done. I needed a full body scan to stage the cancer properly and understand exactly what we were dealing with. And that meant that I had to let go of the baby.

I was incredibly fortunate to have superb support from my husband, family, in-laws, friends, and colleagues. Maybe being a straight talker myself made it easier for everyone to broach this sensitive topic with me. Even prior to my first surgery, everyone told me to put myself first—to focus on my own survival and terminate the pregnancy. That made the decision much easier.

How did you come to terms with not being able to continue the journey of having children?

I don’t actively spend time dwelling on this or trying to force myself to come to terms with it. I’ve always focused my energy on what I can control. If there’s nothing I can do to change an outcome, I don’t engage. I don’t waste time asking why me? Or lingering on things that are out of my hands. To me, it’s about choosing my battles wisely and only fighting the ones I know I have a chance at winning. So instead of looking back, I will always choose to move forward.

How has your perception of motherhood changed since your diagnosis?

My perception of motherhood has expanded beyond the idea of carrying a child in my womb or having a DNA connection. I’ve come to see that there are two kinds of mothers: the tummy mama and the forever mama.

Motherhood isn’t defined by biology; it’s about love, commitment, and the way I show up for a child. Raising a child with everything I have— my time, my heart, my guidance. And that is what makes me a mother. And on the flip side, simply giving birth to a baby doesn’t automatically make someone more of a mother if they’re not there for the child. At the end of the day, being a mother isn’t about how a child comes into my life. It’s about how I love and raise them.

What has been the most challenging part of your cancer journey?

This might be very different from what most people expect, but for me, one of the biggest challenges of my cancer journey was resting. I know that sounds ironic but slowing down was incredibly difficult. Through surgery recovery and chemotherapy, I knew I had to rest—I told myself to rest.

But doing nothing made me feel worse. I became restless, listless, and even developed terrible headaches, not from treatment, but simply from inactivity. Even though I made it a point to go for morning walks or jogs every day, I struggled with how to pass my afternoons. Very quickly, I realised that forcing myself to rest too much wasn’t helping, so I found a balance. I eased back into taking work calls and continued with my MBA modules, but in a way that didn’t overwhelm me. I also rediscovered activities that I used to enjoy but put on hold for the last two years, dancing and playing the piano. Ironically, learning how to pace myself instead of forcing rest was what helped me heal.

You mentor newly diagnosed patients; how do you stay positive while managing your own struggles with breast cancer?

I wouldn’t say I mentor anyone. I’ve just connected with fellow cancer patients at BCF events, exchanged numbers, and shared experiences. It’s more about mutual support than formal mentorship.

But one thing only a fellow breast cancer warrior will truly understand is the Red Devil, the mother of all chemotherapies. Anyone can pay top dollar to talk to a counsellor or psychiatrist, but nothing compares to speaking with someone who knows. Someone who has been through it. Because honestly, I can’t even fully describe how the Red Devil makes me feel. It’s something that one just has to experience to understand.

And it’s not just the chemo—there’s also the experience of being breastless. I’ve removed both breasts and gone au naturel, with no reconstruction for now and in the foreseeable future. That, too, is something that’s tough to put into words. But when we meet someone who gets it, no explanation is needed. That shared, unspeakable understanding? That’s what makes these connections so valuable.

To be honest, I might just have a bad memory (like a goldfish), or maybe I’m wired differently—I don’t dwell in negativity or see myself as a victim. If anything, I tend to be overly logical. So, talking to fellow patients has never felt like an additional burden to me, unless they start becoming extremely illogical. In that case, I’ll quietly and gradually distance myself.

What are some unexpected things you’ve learnt about yourself throughout your journey?

I’ve learned just how strong and resilient I can be. Or rather, how resilient the human body and mind truly are. Over the past 8 months, I’ve been beaten down by treatment time and time again, only to get back up, recover, and go through it all over again. And somehow, I’m still standing.

I’m also in awe of my own courage. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see me. But at the same time, I don’t. My hair is different, my chest is different. I can’t see my liver, heart, or kidneys, but I know they must be exhausted from processing all these drugs. On top of that, I’ve been thrown into medical menopause, and my bones ache as if I’ve aged decades overnight. And yet, I’m still rocking it.

I may not be the healthiest, but I show up every day –whether it’s for exercise, work, or meeting deadlines. I’ve made the toughest decisions of my life in the past 8 months, and I’ve stood by every single one of them. Every day, I remind myself: Dear me, I will make you proud.

What were some of your most memorable travel experiences? What are some trips you have planned next?

One of my most memorable trips was to Australia’s Northern Territory, where my husband and I hiked multiple trails in Kakadu National Park and Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. The landscapes were breathtaking. It was vast, rugged, and unlike anything I had ever seen with paddle pop-coloured skies. One of the highlights was experiencing Tali Wiru, an indigenous fine-dining experience under the desert sky, gazing up at a sky full of stars.

As for the upcoming trip, my husband and I have another hiking trip planned in May this year! We’re heading to Japan for a self-guided hike where we’ll trek to a new accommodation each day, with our luggage forwarded ahead of us. With cancer, I’ve been more mindful about what I eat. I try to eat food where I can name all the ingredients and avoid anything overly processed. Japan is perfect for that. Sushi and sashimi? Pretty hard to go wrong there!

How important is early detection, and what would you say to the women who are afraid of getting checked for breast cancer?

Early detection is everything. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate—it can happen to anyone, at any age. I never thought it would happen to me, and I wish I had caught it earlier. If something feels off, don’t ignore it. Don’t be afraid to get checked. It could save your life. And if you do receive a diagnosis, know that you are not alone—there is a whole community ready to support you.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned through my experience is the importance of community support. The Breast Cancer Foundation (BCF) has been an incredible resource, offering monthly support groups, befriending activities, and their Healing Through The Arts (HTTA) program, which includes classes like yoga, pilates, and even K-pop dance! It’s not just about treatment—it’s about healing, connection, and finding joy again.

And this March, I’ll be participating in BCF’s Courage Catwalk for International Women’s Day on 7 March. The theme is ‘Cultural Mosaic of Courage’, and I’m excited to walk alongside fellow survivors to show that cancer doesn’t define us. We are more than our diagnosis, our scars, or the things we’ve lost. We are still here, still living, still thriving.

Read more: Breast Self Examination Guide: How To Check For Breast Cancer

With a failed egg retrieval for future IVF treatments in November 2024, Andrea does not plan to have kids in the future. She is also still undergoing active treatment for breast cancer. However, she continues to live life to the fullest and shares her story as part of her journey. Andrea will be one of the 20 breast cancer survivors participating in the Breast Cancer Foundation’s (BCF) Courage Catwalk 2025 for International Women’s Day on 7 March 2025. This interview was conducted with the help of the Breast Cancer Foundation, which connected us to Andrea. You can show your support to the BCF here, where you’ll find more inspiring stories of those battling breast cancer.

---

Read more stories from breast cancer survivors:
– How Breast Cancer Forced Me To Consider My Own Fertility – Mari Huang
– Living With Breast Cancer For Over A Decade – Mum of 3, Linda Ng
– “Being Strong Is The Only Choice We Have” – Singaporean Mum, Neeta Kumari
– My Life Is Better Post-Cancer Than It Was Pre-Cancer – Mama Amy Neary
– “You don’t need to move on, but you’ve got to MOVE” – Mum of 2, Jasmine Han